Chapter Two
Ernest
“Your damn ex is up to no good again.”
Startled, Ernest looked up from his papers to see Rick, his right-hand manager, standing in his doorway. Glancing over at the window, he could see it was already dark out. Gods, I’ve been at this bloody desk for hours.
“I have no interest in talking about my ex,” he said firmly, leaning back in his chair with a groan.
Sitting hunched over a desk—he couldn’t help being overly tall—never did any good to his lower back.
He rubbed the spot between his eyes with his finger.
He could feel a headache forming, the same as it did anytime his ex was mentioned.
“Shouldn’t you have gone home by now? You know darn well Pierre hasn’t been around here in months.
I’m sure he’s off doing his own thing. When he finally stormed out of here, ranting about everything wrong with me that he could think of in that moment, he promised to have nothing to do with me or this place ever again.
So, I really don’t see why you’re bringing him up now. ”
Ernest slapped his hands against the papers on his desk.
“I am desperately trying to find a new source for the covers that we need for our new plants. I can’t seem to get anything within a hundred-mile radius and anything I try to source from further away is going to have a delivery period of at least three weeks, which is going to be too late if we want to keep our flowers safe from any late frosts. ”
“You’re going to need those ground covers for more than the frost.” Rick strode into the office.
He was a large bear shifter with a gentle soul, except for when it came to Ernest’s ex.
“That damn Pierre has re-launched his hot air balloon business again, and look…” Rick shoved a pamphlet under Ernest’s nose.
“He’s using pictures from your farm taken from your porch to promote his business. What does that suggest to you?”
Ernest got a familiar sinking feeling in his gut as he picked up the pamphlet. It was bright and cheerful. Noticing the logo at the top right of the pamphlet—it wasn’t a company he recognized. Bucket List Buddies?
“This looks like a collaboration event. Who’s this company?” he said, tapping the logo.
“I checked into it as soon as I saw the damn brochure. It’s a new event place in town,” Rick replied.
“Perfectly innocent operation, just helping people find like-minded people who want excitement and the possibility of more. According to the gossip in town, two people have already found their fated mates at these events. One at dance classes, one at a ghost tour, but their next event is hot air ballooning. And you can guess that sleazy Pierre has done this deliberately. Why else would he tie himself in with this lot? He believes it’s a mate-finding event. ”
“It doesn’t specifically say mate finding,” Ernest quickly scanned the text. “The blurb here says it’s a way for lonely people to get together and meet new friends.”
Rick sighed long and loud. “They have to say that. They can hardly promote anything that says, ‘you’re guaranteed to find your mate,’ or they’ll have a whole stack of unhappy customers when that doesn’t happen. You and I both know the chances of finding a mate are one in a million.”
Ernest knew that only too well—it was why he got tied up with Pierre in the first place—a mistake he’d been regretting ever since their long and messy breakup.
“It’s just a few pictures,” he said slowly.
He really didn’t want to have to get in touch with Pierre for any reason.
“We do have some of the best views around.”
“Those are pictures of your farm. The hill, the lake underneath it, all your lush green paddocks.” Rick pointed out the window, although not a lot could be seen in the dark. “Guess where he’s planning to land those damn balloons of his?”
“He can’t,” Ernest said firmly. “We had a deal. He is not allowed within a mile of this farm or any of the land I own. That includes absolutely not landing his balloons anywhere near my paddocks.”
That was how Pierre and Ernest had met the summer before, when a beautiful hot air balloon landed in the middle of an admittedly fallow paddock at the time.
Pierre was charming and graceful, and Ernest was lonely.
It was a story older than time, until he found out Pierre was manipulative, money hungry, and a pain in the ass, and not in a fun way.
“He’s probably just taking advantage of the pictures because they’re pretty. ”
Rick shook his head. “I don’t know why you always had such a soft spot for that oily otter.
I really don’t. We’ve got young plants in the ground.
If he lands in the middle of those paddocks—any one of those paddocks—he’s going to ruin a huge part of our next year’s crop.
Don’t you remember what happened last time? ”
Ernest winced as Ricky’s voice rose.
“It’s not just the balloon landing that causes the problem. It’s the countless people, sixteen of them per balloon, wandering across the paddock with no regard for the plants that are there, and that’s without that fricking truck thing that his so-called partner drives.
“You remember, don’t you? That numbskull who doesn’t understand what his brakes are for and has absolutely no respect for private land?
The last time he was here, there were deep tire gouges in the paddocks that took a roller to remove—all so they could collect their precious balloon.
And what happened when you yelled at them?
‘We’re allowed to land anywhere that’s safe.
’ That’s all they had to say. Anywhere they can cause a huge fucking annoyance, if you ask me.
Do you seriously mean to tell me that Pierre is going to keep his fucking balloons away from your paddocks? ”
“The pictures could just be a marketing ploy. They might be flying over the other side of town for all we know.” Ernest wasn’t sure, and it wasn’t like he was going to call his ex and ask.
“You keep thinking that if it makes you feel better. The only way we’re going to stop them is to get those ground covers. If we cover the plants, he can’t land.”
“I’ve been trying.” Ernest dropped the pamphlet on his desk.
It made him sick just to look at it, especially when he remembered the evening Pierre took the photos.
The paddocks in the brochure were taken when they were fallow, meaning that there was nothing planted in them that was expected to grow, and he could harvest at a later stage.
His farm—Forever Blooms—was the largest flower farm in the state.
Rick was right about one thing: a damn balloon could do a lot of damage, seeing as that they’d planted their seedlings only two weeks before.
“What are the dates for these events again?”
“This weekend and next.” Rick leaned over the desk, tapping the pamphlet. “He’s doing the evening sunset ones three days on the damn trot. It says quite plainly there in black and white.”
“Yeah, well, maybe I don’t want to read it.” Ernest looked out the window.
“Ernest, you can’t ignore this,” Rick stated firmly. “If any of his balloons come anywhere near our paddocks, a huge part of our harvest could be ruined before it’s even started to grow.”
“I know that. I do.” One of the reasons Ernest kept Rick on was because he was as honest as the day was long. Looking back at his friend now, he asked, “Is there any way we can rig up some of the covers from last year?”
The covers Ernest used were a rather novel invention that was designed to help young seedling flowers be protected from the effects of frost or the occasional hailstorm.
While both were rare where Ernest lived, they were still enough of a concern for him to want his paddocks covered.
Most people would grow the delicate flower species he favored in a glasshouse.
However, Ernest had always wanted a bigger operation.
He got a huge sense of satisfaction from seeing his precious flowers grow year after year, after year.
But of course, those seeds had to grow into sturdy plants first.
“The last covers we had were totally wrecked by that freak storm we had at the end of last season. Remember? I warned you then that we needed to be sourcing new ones before we started planting this time. Of course, you had other things on your mind.”
Ernest felt a flush of guilt. The other things on his mind were his messy affair with Pierre.
It was chaotic from the start. It was Pierre who decided to move into Ernest’s house after their second date—because, of course, two people in love would want to be together all the time.
Ernest hadn’t remembered loving him, but he didn’t see the harm.
Pierre then tried to interfere with Ernest’s planting schedule—complaining that Ernest was always tired and never spent any time with him. It’s not like Ernest could ask the seasons to put the spring on hold so he could tend to his boyfriend. The seasons didn’t wait for anybody.
Ernest’s insistence on keeping to his growing schedule caused Pierre to decide that Ernest was boring.
Ernest remembered agreeing—his life could look that way to someone who didn’t understand his love of pretty blooms. Left to his own devices, Pierre got picky, and then he got nasty, and then he decided he would take Ernest for every cent he possibly could by accessing his bank accounts and trying to steal his credit card—coincidentally, the night of the big storm.
An internet outage was the only reason Pierre hadn’t succeeded.
Their last fight had been messy, with Pierre throwing every insult he could think of before slamming the door on the way out. And taking Ernest’s truck.
“I know,” he said, running his hands through his long gray hair. “I dropped the ball. I’m trying to fix things. I promised this season I would not be ruled by the needs of a rampant dick, and I meant it.”
“I’m not sure the needs of your dick are going to cause you any issues this season,” Rick chuckled wryly. “Unless you’re planning on going back to that asshole again.”
Ernest was already shaking his head. He learned from his mistakes.
“The thing is, the ass who was warming one end of your dick last season could be a threat to this season as well. Can you get in touch with the local council? Try and get an injunction against him that will ban him from flying anywhere near the farm at all?”
“I can try,” Ernest said. “I’ll get in touch with them…
” He glanced at a clock as his stomach rumbled.
“Correction. I’ll make myself a huge, big note, slap it in the middle of my desk, and I’ll get onto it first thing in the morning.
I am sorry, Rick. I know we were hoping for a hassle-free season this year. ”
“Bah!” Rick flicked his hand in Ernest’s direction.
“You don’t have anything to be sorry for.
Lord knows I’ve been led astray by my rampant appendage more than once myself in my long and rather sorry life.
I’m just worried, okay? Those seeds are just starting to show above the soil.
There’s two weekends’ worth of events planned, that we know of, which means his balloons are going to be everywhere. ”
“We could hope for rain and really high winds.” Ernest tried to be optimistic.
“Or you could call the council in the morning and see if you can get an injunction to stop him coming anywhere near our airspace at all. Which would be the more sensible idea rather than relying on the rain gods who have never done us many favors before.”
That was true, too. The curse for many growers. “It’s not like we can even roll our big irrigation sprinklers into the middle of the paddocks to stop them,” he said. “That’ll make as much damage as a balloon landing would.”
Ernest was desperately trying to think of any way he could dissuade any balloons from landing, but anything he did would be hazardous to the new sprouts he had growing.
“I’ll keep thinking. See what I can come up with.
My best bet is to get some covers. But at this rate, I’d have to drive two days to find a place that has some in stock. ”
“That’s because any flower farmer worth their salt had already ordered theirs six months ago,” Rick said drily.
“At least we’ve got some warning, right?
I was just angry when I saw the brochure.
It got delivered with the mail, and I just…
” Rick pinched the bridge of his nose. “As soon as I saw your paddocks being used for promotional purposes… I just knew Pierre was going to use this to mess with you again.”
“One would have thought he would have moved on by now, don’t you think?” Ernest said. “I mean, remember? I’m big, fat, old, and boring. I don’t understand why he came on to me in the first place.” Not that I stopped him when he did, he thought with a sigh.
“You’re not fat, you’re a solid man, you’re not old, you’re wise.
You’re not boring—your interests just didn’t jibe with a young, money-hungry idiot, and the reason why he came onto you is obvious.
It’s well known that elephants have big dicks.
” Rick chuckled. “Come on, clearly you haven’t had time to cook anything, and I haven’t got any plans tonight.
Let’s go out and get something to eat, eh?
Have a couple of beers. Then I’ll head home, you’ll get some sleep, and you’ll be on the phone to the council first thing in the morning tomorrow. Promise me.”
“I promise I’ll be talking to someone at the council the moment their offices open,” Ernest said, shutting off his computer.
Unfortunately, he didn’t think it would do any good, but he would try.